Akatsuki Drabbles

Chauffeur for mafia hitman (Kakuzu)

People were always surprised when you told them you were a chauffeur because you were a woman, but you never felt the need to justify yourself to them—at least, not anymore. It only got worse when you told them you were good with cars, whether fixing or driving, as they found it utterly shocking, and so you had stopped bothering to explain. What your gender had to do with anything, you didn't know, but it was the truth, and you didn't have to prove yourself to anyone. You never needed a mechanic, and had proven you could drive better than a lot of men who challenged you on it. You liked driving—and it was why you had ended up becoming a chauffeur. It was easy money, and you got a lot more tips than people expected, considering you were guaranteed to get them there right on time or early, and the few times the car had broken down, you had easily been able to fix it and get going again. Sure, you did a bit of street racing on the side as well, but that wasn't exactly something you put on your resume. But your driving skills had gotten you plenty of work, so there was no reason to go for anything else.

The day was the same as always; businessmen, politicians, a few celebrities here and there. Regardless of who it was, you had never cared. It was another reason you apparently were one of the most trusted chauffeurs there were—no matter who got in, or what they were doing, you never said anything to anybody. Some people asked questions, but you kept your mouth shut. It wasn't any of your business anyway, or theirs, so there was no reason for you to let it out. Plus, it gave an added factor to the job that you liked: silence. Though some clients liked to talk to you, for the most part it meant you were left alone, and that was the way you liked it—you weren't a particularly chatty person, after all. Then just as always, your shift ended and you headed home. You just hadn't expected to be called up at ten to be told you had another job.

Right away you were unsure about the idea, you had to admit, and weren't sure whether to accept it. It had come out of nowhere, completely suddenly, and not only that, it was to be indefinitely. Though you were never sure whether to stick with the same person constantly, when you were told just how much you would be getting paid, you were more than willing to dismiss any suspicions. Work was work—who were you to complain? So, you merely accepted the address where you should be headed and went to the car, heading there immediately, even if it was getting late. True, it could just be a case of being picked up after dinner or heading to a party, but inwardly you just got the feeling it was more than that. The feeling only grew as you arrived at the building, seeing the street was utterly empty, dark, and ultimately, silent. You merely drove on, however, and parked outside, waiting for your client.

He appeared seconds later, however, making you jump as the door opened so quickly after having come to a halt, and he slid into a seat, placing a briefcase beside him. A shiver ran up your spine as you watched him, having not known what you had expected, but still being surprised. His suit was good quality, and you automatically noted the pure silver cufflinks and Rolex watch on his wrist, so obviously he had money. But there was something different about him. His shoulder length dark brown hair was one thing, and the scars stretching up from each side of his mouth definitely caught your attention—somehow you got the feeling he wasn't a man to be messed with. But it was his eyes that drew you in the most, the red sclerae only making his green irises stand out more. You felt your skin tingling at the intensity of his gaze, gritting your teeth at the sensation of your heartrate increasing. It was not a sensation you were used to—or that you were sure you liked.

Forcing yourself out of it, you quickly turned around and started the car, glancing up at the rear-view mirror and making eye contact as you asked where he wanted to go. Giving you the address, you pulled away from the curb and headed off, a little surprised as he stated bluntly,

"They said you were the best. That you have the quickest times, the best knowledge of the roads—even how to fix the car. Is it true?"

"I can get you anywhere you want to go and faster than anyone else. I know how to handle a car," you replied firmly, keeping eye contact to make sure he understood you were sure of these facts. Narrowing his eyes, he didn't look away from you as he contemplated this information, before a bright light appeared behind him. Instantly turning to look at it, he glared and turned back to you, responding hurriedly,

"I guess we'll find out—drive. Anywhere. Just as long as you lose them."

Turning quickly, you concentrated on the road ahead, grabbing hold of the gear stick and pressing your foot flat down on the accelerator, smirking as the car sped forward.

At least the job would be interesting.